Sometimes you scan a room full of people and think about the story each one weaves. A story you don’t know. A story you will never know.

As a child I remember lying on my bed, staring into the dark and wondering if my parents would rush to my room if I screamed. I get that feeling, off and on, even today. It’s weird how your life is (more or less) confined to your body. All you know is yourself in that room. You know every moment, movement, emotion and position that you are in. When someone walks into the room, you perceive his moment, movement, emotion and position from your perspective. But the minute the person walks out of your sight, you don’t know anything about him. When a few minutes pass and he is still out of your sight and cannot be tracked by your ears either, it feels as though you’ve missed a part of his life. While you experience your life continuously, all you see is fractions of others’ lives. The only time you experience lives together is when you are a conjoint twin or when you are pregnant. All other times you are alone. It’s an odd feeling. It doesn’t make you feel lonely; it’s just awareness of your aloneness.

Alone, aware of it and sometimes unable to handle it, I can feel the universe point at me and grin– “You can’t do anything about it!” But I snap back –“I can pray. I am a part of you. You have to converge to separate me from ‘aloneness’.” The universe sighs, “So, you are telling me that life is complex, absurd and haphazard and all you can do is pray? Is that your solution?” Taken aback, I respond, “They say I need to blend into you.” The universe laughs, “You’ll blend into me when you die, whether you like it or not. While you are alive, just keep yourself occupied.”

Now I am alone, aware of it and speechless. It reminds me how depending on the universe only makes me weaker. So, I just grab the hand of every living being and experience life with them, although intermittently. I experience each one’s illusion with them and live each fool’s paradise.